


From The Ground Up

by solitariusvirtus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: “It is much too risky a move,” Richard offered after a few moments of silence. “The Starks should not be trifled with. And certainly not in so reckless a manner. If you wish to succeed, you must put aside all other distractions.”“That is precisely why I am doing it.” His friend shook his head, indicating his disagreement. “I do not anticipate the girl’s stay will be of long duration. We are so close to achieving our goal.” Rhaegar pushed aside his own doubts regarding the scheme and persisted. “It has to be done.”“Not at the expense of our safety. Rickard Stark has proven himself unreliable. But we can deal with unreliable. What we cannot have is a feral wolf out for blood. You are mistaken if you think his daughter will provide any manner of leverage.”AU!





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rickard barely spared his son a single look. “Had you had more care, none of us would be in this situation.” Ned’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Lyanna wished she might come to his defence, but father did not look particularly interested in hearing her either. She bowed her head and waited for the axe to fall. “I spoke to His Grace,” he continued, “and he seemed willing enough to give us a reprieve. But,” he trailed off. Lyanna saw his boots move against the ground as he approached her, “not without compensation.”

“Coin, soldiery, a favour of some sort?” Brandon’s voice cracked, splitting the silence open. The raw wound bled uncertainty into all three hearts.

“Your sister.” She had little choice but to lift her eyes to his. Her father stared for a long moment before turning towards the small table.

Brandon, doing his best to imitate a fish out of water, sputtered for a few moments before he managed to formulate an appropriately answer. “Well he cannot have her. I will stand her champion, if I must, father.”

“Don’t be daft.” Father glanced at her. “There is no reason for you to put yourself in danger.” She had known, more or less, what the outcome would be when she’d agreed to the whole of it and did not see a way to shake the responsibility away. “I am perfectly willing to go along with the demand. Once His Grace has convinced himself that no one means to interfere with his cause, I shall be sent back. ‘Tis all a trifle undeserving of such strong a response.”

“We’ve little recourse in any event.” That came from their father. The man sighed in his beard. “Brandon, you are not to issue any manner of challenge and you,” he pointed to his second-born, “are to return with young Robert to Jon Arryn’s home where you shall wait on my word on how you are to be dealt with.” Finally reaching her, the man cleared his throat. “As for you, my girl; I am thoroughly disappointed that you would expose yourself in such a manner and make a mockery out of our good name.” Remorse flared to life. She’d not meant to cause trouble. And in any event, her actions had been prompted by the best of intentions. She could do little but bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from justifying the choices. Father was already dismissing them. “One more thing, Lyanna,” he spoke as she reached the door.

Progress halted, she turned back around. “Aye, my lord?” Having long since learned that it was best not to show impatience, she schooled her features into a mask of neutrality even as her sire busied himself with all manner of tasks beyond the scope of his words. He continued on in silence for some time, as though to gather thoughts and piece words together. Or might be he tested her. She could not tell which, but in any event she meant to keep control of herself.

After long moments, he finally deigned to gaze upon her. “Why did you make no mention of the crown you received?” She blanched even as the words yet percolated into her mind. The crown of roses; of course someone would have told him. Mother, if she’d taken the time to see the servants unpacking.

“It seemed unimportant.” But it was no trivial gesture. Or it had not felt as such to her. She recalled the strains of the song which had made her weep and steeled herself against the stirrings within her breast. “A mere token.”

“You are no fool, daughter, and a poor liar besides.” She grimaced. “If you thought it of little importance you would have thrown it away, disposed of it somehow. And yet, it was found well-preserved in your trunk.”

“Winter roses are the flowers I love most,” she excused her actions, hardly able to keep from wincing at such a weak defence. “It seemed a pity to throw them away.” Her father apparently shared her belief regarding the feebleness of her reasoning. To have been so very deceived in the man’s character and yet to be unable to shake off the hold he had on her seemed monstrously unfair to her. But she could not say such words to her father’s face when she shuddered to admit it to herself. Whatever she thought she felt for the Prince, she had neither cause nor excuse to persist.   

 “It seems a pity that you feign ignorance as well.” She could not hold his stare. “Is there aught of a serious nature between the two of you?” She protested such a notion with a stronger tone than might be had been warranted. “You need not take on so. A man is naturally curious when his daughter returns with so strange a token, especially considering there has been some talk. A little bird told me Lord When had to replace the crown which had been originally made at the last moment .”

That she had not known. Lyanna had assumed the flowers had been picked with her in mind. “I confess I was much pleased to be an object of admiration, but there is naught more to it than that, lord father. Not on my part. Was it so wrong to wish to keep a reminder of my victory?”

“Beauty may stir the best of men, but it likewise attracts the worst of them as well.” That was not truly an answer, not in any way that mattered. Lyanna blinked slowly; vague words strung together reverberated through her mind.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “It may also stir the best and worst in any man.” But that was just the trouble, she did not think her beauty had anything to do with the crown of flowers. It couldn’t have. “Whatever the cause of his actions, it does not truly matter to this specific situation does it?”

Her father cocked his head to the side and allowed her to be on her way. “Your lady mother has need of you.” Thus she bobbed him a curtsy and left him to whatever it was that he had to do. She told herself that his lack of an answer had little to do with the disappointment he felt over her actions. She hoped it didn’t. Whatever the truth of it, she could not gather the wherewithal to put such a question to him.

Her lady mother she found in the small chamber, hard at work over a linen shift. “Lyanna, come,” the woman invited, a warm smile on her face. “You look pale, dearest.” She motioned her over, patting the empty space on the bench. “Might be some wine.”

“No wine.” She did sit down. Lyanna tugged on the edge of the shift, pulling the bulk of it onto her lap, holding it taut to ease her mother’s task. “The crown was a small matter. There was no reason to make mention of it to my lord father.”

“Husbands and wives do not keep secrets from one another.” She looked down into her lap. The thread pulled taut. “Lyanna, do not perceive yourself the injured party. It is no small matter to receive such attentions.” The thread bent and dipped. The needle followed the downward path. “Men do not see these things as we do, not unless there is some threat to their claim. You cannot close your eyes to these gestures. Why did you keep it?” There was no accusation there. Her mother’s voice remained soft, but probing. She picked the needle up again, following the path of her tracing. “There must be some reason for which you did so.”

“I thought it was harmless. I had mentioned winter roses and thought he simply meant to humour me. How was I to know he intended to take it further?” And then, it was not as though he did as Robert would have done; that had been her line of reasoning. “It was just a crown, with no particular meaning behind it.”

“A crown meant for the queen of love and beauty with no particular meaning behind it. My sweet girl, you mustn’t limit yourself to naïve outlooks on life. And particularly not in the case of men’s hearts. It is a cruel thing to throw anyone’s admiration back into their face.” She bit into her lower lip and glanced up. Her lady mother gave her one of those looks, a look which told her more than any words might have. A sense of shame swamped her. The crown hadn’t held no value to her. Why would it have been an empty gesture on his part.

“I enjoyed the knowledge of his regard.” She had enjoyed his smiles and the kind words and that peculiar look in his eyes. She had enjoyed his promise to shield her. But she had not expected he would demand to be repaid. “Why would he threaten us?” Her voice broke upon the last syllable.

“The realm necessitates complicated manoeuvres and at times their end goal is not necessarily as clear as one might hope.” Lyarra placed a strip of gold ribbon in her hand before she returned to the small details she’d been sewing into the chemise. “We cannot control the actions of others, let alone their thoughts and intentions. King’s Landing need not, however, put you ill at ease.” Lyanna was unable to make out whether her mother simply wished to sooth her or if there was aught else to her words. “You will have your duties. Take comfort in that.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Ashara settled into the chair, the shawl wrapped about her shoulder slipping ever so slightly. “I find it odd is all.” She glanced at her brother as the rustling of cloth finally subsided. “There is so much about it which makes no sense.”

“Is that so?” She scowled at the slight mockery she detected in his tone. Arthur could at times drive her mad with his evasiveness. Prying information from him was like whittling a rock for water. But as ever, her kin ignored the signs of her annoyance. “Have you considered that this is not at all any of our business?” He handed her one of the cups, the steam still rising from the piping hot tea.

“You told me I would find fitting company if I entered Her Grace’s service,” Ashara argued. She took a sip of her drink. Her brother kept his silence. She considered making her point clearer but looking into his face she decided against it. And her instincts for such matters proved to be correct.

“I said it would be fitting company. Not good.” He sighed, scratching at the shadow of beard he would not be shaving until the morning. “It seems to me that you ought to have paid more attention to my words and less to what you make of my words. You wanted to know what life at court was like and now you know.”

She bristled. “Fitting company? Are you certain you simply did not mean to teach me a lesson?”

Arthur shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “Might be I did wish to teach you a lesson. And what have we learned?”

She might have put a jest forth. She might have mocked him in that moment. She might have satisfied the craving within her to slash at him. “That I had best latch onto Lord Stark’s second son and encourage him thoroughly.” Ashara paused, wondering what his response would be. She held her breath. To her surprise, something unexpected flashed across his features. “I do not think I shall last here.”

“Eddard Stark, you say?” He was considering her choice. If Arthur approved, their elder brother would as well. And as soon as he gave his consent, she would sprout wings and fly. If only the world were that very simple. Alas, Ashara was not to be awarded a path lacking obstacles. “I’d have thought your interest would lead you to the elder brother.”

“I merely danced with the man.” Brandon Stark had never even been a serious option as far as she was concerned. The man smiled and fiddled and made love to all and sundry. He was about as empty as a well used granary after a cold, hard winter, with nary as much with or charm as he thought he possessed. “And he is to wed Lord Tully’s daughter, you know? I do not think I have much to work with there.”

Arthur gulped down about half of his tea. “And you shall tell Eddard Stark, shan’t you, about,” he paused, as though finding the precisely right expression was a task beyond his limits, “the arrangement, I presume?”

Only a fool would take such a risk. And only a complete dolt would admit to her brother that she contemplated going against the most important of his demands when he’d agreed to have her with him. “I shall leave naught of any importance out.”

“This is not a game, Ashara. There will be much resentment between the two of you if you choose to lie upon the matter.” And if she chose to speak the truth, he might well reconsider the regard he had for her. She would be left precisely where she’d started.

“What does it matter? He is a second son.” By all accounts, Riverlands brides were adept enough at breeding. She had yet to hear of any complaint levelled at their lack of fertility. “And all else being equal, it is such a small matter in the grand scheme of things.”

“A small matter she says.” A sigh followed. She felt the sound shoot from his chest. Ashara shuddered. “Even you do not believe your words. If it were inconsequential, why would you avoid coming clean?”

“You are the one making it consequential,” she accused. “I would be perfectly happy to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“There are some decisions which can never be undone. They will bind you as sure as any shackles. Do you truly wish to risk coming to face with a man’s anger and contempt when you might have saved yourself the trouble by simply being honest? A man with whom you will be spending the rest of your life. That is a long time to serve.”

It struck her that he spoke not from the head, but rather from the heart. A long time to serve, indeed. She’d not known her brother to measure his regret with so keen an eye for advice. And yet there they were, the two of them. “You are asking me for the impossible.” The heavy frown did not suit him at all. She wished he would listen to her for once. Alas, it seemed to be impossible a task.

“You said he is a good man. You’ve seen what harm a lie can cause between man and wife.” He stood to his feet, putting the cup away.

“A good,” she stressed, “man. Not a foolish one.”     

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“It is much too risky a move,” Richard offered after a few moments of silence. “The Starks should not be trifled with. And certainly not in so reckless a manner. If you wish to succeed, you must put aside all other distractions.”

“That is precisely why I am doing it.” His friend shook his head, indicating his disagreement. “I do not anticipate the girl’s stay will be of long duration. We are so close to achieving our goal.” Rhaegar pushed aside his own doubts regarding the scheme and persisted. “It has to be done.”

“Not at the expense of our safety. Rickard Stark has proven himself unreliable. But we can deal with unreliable. What we cannot have is a feral wolf out for blood. You are mistaken if you think his daughter will provide any manner of leverage.” Might be ‘twas not leverage he sought. Aught of the thought must have translated into visual cues for his companion turned to weariness. “I cannot understand you.”

“Nay. I suppose you cannot.” Offering no further explanation, Rhaegar returned his attention to the much-debated plan. “Tywin Lannister might yet be convinced to join in exchange for the return of former glories. And a viable heir.” The pressing and somewhat distressing issue of a lacking heir. Rhaegar supposed he could relate. Although the thought that he and Tywin Lannister had even as much in common did not inspire any warmth in his breast.

“Uneasy is the man placing his fate in the paw of the lion.”

“You ought to have become a maester, Richard. The way you go about, I wonder your knees don’t buckle underneath the weight of such wisdom.” Richard scowled, as was his wont in the face of criticism of the sort.

The other gave a shrug of the shoulders.“You are making a mistake. There is no possible way you could divide yourself between so many tasks.” It was clear that to his mind those words made perfect sense, but then Richard was not oft wrong in his estimations. “Reconsider, Your Grace.”

“You shan’t badger me over this. I have made up my mind and we will proceed accordingly.”  Rhaegar had to admit he did not quite like the way Richard closed off in that moment, leaving him entirely ignorant as to what the true effect of his command had been.

“If that is what you desire, certainly,” came the belated reply. “I will see that the Lion receive his opportunity.” The silence stretched before Richard gathered what Rhaegar supposed to be the last of his patience, “Would you at the very least deal carefully in this?”

“That much I can promise you.” In spite of what his friend might think of the wisdom of the decision, Lord Stark was a measured man. The time he would take to settle for one approach or the other would allow ample opportunity for them to act. As for what happened after, that he would see to when came the time. “You worry too much.”  

“Someone has to.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too lazy to think of a summary, but the idea is this: not everything is as it seems. Toodles.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

The slithering sliver of relief died a short moment into the man’s speech. Aerys closed his eyes against the momentary pain flaring to life within the confines of his skull and pushed back the voices clamouring for vengeance. “You are certain?” he asked of the Spider, still avoiding the sight of the man.

“Indeed, I am. The missives were carried with little enough delay and we were most fortunate in our discovery.” Contemplating the words, Aerys allowed for silence to reign between them. A wolf of Winterfell had caught his son’s eye. He attempted to put a face to the name his servant had given. It should not have been so difficult a task, alas, a great many maidens had populated Harrenhal and he confessed he’d paid them little enough mind. “A comely maiden of diminutive stature. I am told she resembles her sire.” Rickard Stark he could picture well in his mind’s eye. Aerys grunted, wondering what it was that had attracted his son’s attention. “Lord Steffon wanted her for a good-daughter.”

Another grunt left his lips. His mind latched onto a vague memory. There had been a maiden at the tourney, brandishing her cup about as though it were a club. “Lyanna Stark.”

“The very one.” Odd. He would not have guessed at such inclinations on his son’s part. But then he remembered being a young buck, and more so, he recalled the potency of desire. The Dornish sow would not be pleased, the thought of which amused him greatly. He could hardly wait to have her squawking about. That at least should afford him a few moments of joy. “Your Majesty, it cannot be that aid has been obtained.”

“The girl, of course, is trapping meant to ensure her sire stays his hand.” He would not have done any differently himself. A son would be much too risky to take on. “The North shan’t act any one way. It is yet undecided.” He snorted. “Weak-willed and fatuous; there are no grand battles left in this world.” His lips curled gently. “Do you know why?”

Silence was the first response. A gust of wind tugged on the heavily-hanging curtains. “Why, Your Majesty?”

“All the great men of our age have gone.” He thought of Duncan the Small and of his grandfather, of Duncan the Tall and all his accomplishments. “I look around me and wonder at the difference. That the likes of such men shall never grace these halls again becomes a recurrent thought in my mind.” And he’d had such hopes of his firstborn. “Gone is the age of strength and ambition. Now every man wiggles his way into victory, like a worn absent pride, seeking the door less guarded. No matter that he has broken the rules of gods and man; he who wins the battle declares himself victor over all.” They were all the same, his son and men of his ilk. Natural born betrayers.

Might be more worrisome was the lack of awareness which so disturbingly reared its head. In the old days one’s enemy has blood and not water running through his veins; there were confrontations of sword, not words, and one could always trust the steel over speech. Alas, he had allowed the situation out of hand, and he wondered, not without a hint of remorse, whether he had ever had the reins in hand. 

“What would you have me do, Your Majesty?” Varys was water. Naught he ever said seemed to affect him. Aerys contemplated the answer he was about to give. It would not matter to this man before him whether he should suffer in learning the extent of Rhaegar’s perfidy. It was an order which animated Varys’ efforts and only that. There were no ties binding him other than the superficial chains of servitude.

“Keep an eye on the girl when she arrives. Mind that her kin do not ally themselves to my son’s little cause by her actions.” That was, surely, not too much to ask. Aerys doubted Rickard Stark would make a move, and he much doubted his son has the spine to force him into action. But women could never be too closely watched.

“Begging pardon, Your Majesty, from what I have thus far observed, the girl holds little enough sway. Her actions do not seem to be of immediate concern.”  He grunted, holding back a chuckle. It would be mean-spirited to blame Varys for his misconception.

“Not at the moment, she does not hold much sway,” he concurred. But she would. Knowing that boy as he did, he’d put her on a pedestal and let her wrap him around her finger. For the time it took to be shaken from her elevated position, in any event. Whether she used it to advance her kin’s agenda, or his son’s remained to be seen. “But I would still have her observed.” Varys bowed.

The conversation at an end, Aerys found himself alone in the solar, eyes upon the neat script filling the space of a page before his eyes. He would not, he decided, push the wolves into any manner of decision. For the time being, it seemed of somewhat greater import to see whether that Dornish wife of his son’s managed in her duty. There would be time aplenty to decide Rhaegar’s fate in the wake of such knowledge. The boy might even find his struggle to be in vain.

A frisson of awareness shoot him out of his stupor. Aerys rose, eyeing the gilt walls with gathering unease. It seemed to him that the chamber gathered in around him, cutting of his supply of air along with any chance for escape. A sickly sweet scent filled his nostrils, the effect of which was to having him break out in a cold sweat. He could not sit within the chamber, they would come for him. And if they found him, they would tear what was left of him to pieces. He might beg, as he’d done before, for death. Aye, he could not remain a moment longer, he decided, gritting his teeth against the ghost of a long-gone ache.

He saw his way without. Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent guarded the chamber. The younger of the two, he knew, had lately been engrossed in a much absorbing attempt to launch his sister at court, a feat which ought to have been accomplished with little difficulty. But then, as Aerys has intimated before, women ever so rarely showed their hand from the very beginning and that one had more in mind than parading herself before a few wealthy lords in mind, if he had to take a guess. It stood to reason her brother found himself somewhat at sea.

Walking past the two men, he slowly ambled to the gardens, thankful for the stinging bite of a cold gale. The precarious ground beneath his feet held him aloft for the time being, allowing for the unease to become diffused, stretching until only a thin layer remained. The sweat cooling sweat on his back clung to his skin uncomfortably. It was almost a weight pressing him down. Pressing further into the gardens, he found the small enclosure hidden behind a wall of overgrown shrubbery.

In the time of his grandfather it had served as Queen Betha’s personal corner of the gardens, planted with all manner of flowers and climbing ivy. His lady mother had oft brought them within, allowing him and Rhaella to play before her eyes. In the intervening years it had fallen into disrepair. Grandmother’s death and his own lady mother’s distinct lack of care resulted in the ramshackle aspect.

He’d never seen the value in having the ruins restored to former glory. The tranquillity which one found in such corners baffled him. He could still recall the low rosebush which had stood right in the middle of the chamber-like structure. All that remained of it was wildly overgrown, weed-choked thorny limbs. Like him, the body of the garden found relief in its decay. What more could be taken from such a place which had not already been stripped away? Not a single thing.

Aerys sat down upon a bench. The druxy wood beneath him groaned warningly. He breathed out his relief, eyeing the clear sky above him. Would there ever come a day when he did not fear being stabbed in the back? The answer was, of course, a negative one. It had amused him without fail how ignorant people were of the pressure his position imposed. It saddened him when his son failed to see that subtler approaches to one’s significant troubles oft meant solutions of better quality where such was advantageous.

Another sound of protest from the wood gave him pause. An idea struck him and his fancy alike. Some bonds, he reckoned, would never be forged again after being broken. But might be he did not need to do so. Might be ‘twas enough to reach a mutual understanding, or even an acknowledgement.       

With his mind made up, he had his son summoned. Aught within him spoke of paternal duty, of leave takings and last chances. He could not, after all, let matters further derail without taking necessary precautions.  His wait was not of long duration, nor was his son tardy in giving proper greeting. What Rhaegar was, in the way of his lady mother, was cold and brittle, seemingly ready to snap at any moment.

If he was to play the villain, he might as well give it his all. “You do not seem to take much joy in the reprieve which has been offered you.” The observation was met with stunned silence. “Dragonstone may survive without its lord for a few moon turns longer.”

“I daresay it would be best if the lord took a keen interest in his keep,” his son answered with some delay.

“Alas, you shall have to go against your better judgement for the time being.” A nod met the order. “It would be best for your lady wife, as well, to have the care of the Grand Maester. What with her health.”

The subject of Elia Martell drew, as it had since the very first turns of their cohabitation, a sharp intake of breath. Along with that, a more telling reaction was at work. “That is a generous offer. My lady wife will be doubtlessly pleased.” And in spite of the words, in spite of the warm timber running its thread through that courteous reply, there was nothing within. Empty.

“Indeed, she ought to be. Her kin will be shortly along and then she will have something to occupy herself with.” That had the boy’s attention. “Aye? Have I not told you? Her brother comes on the Prince’s business and I would not deprive siblings of a reunion.”

Oberyn was not the sort of danger Aerys need concern himself with. And in spite of his son’s dislike for the man, he wasn’t that much of a danger to Rhaegar either. What he would do, however, was offer proper and consistent distraction for that sister of his. Aerys was curious just how far his son was willing to go.

“She is bound to be pleased.” Meaningless words. His fingers itched to grab at the boy’s shoulders and shake him. “I cannot see why that should appear as such a pressing concern.” But of course he would not, Dorne had washed its hands of any attempt upon the throne with the marriage. They would have the power they desired irrespective of their actions. His poor son ought to have fully considered the implications of such an alliance.

“One ought to always keep one’s friends close and the enemies even closer,” Aerys offered after a few moments. “There are times when I wonder at the wisdom of such words. It strikes me as more valuable that one should dispose of the enemies.”

“What of the friends? Are they to be ignored?”

“One cannot account for that which does not exist, can one?” There was no flicker of shock, not even a hint of disagreement. Might be his son was finally beginning to understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
